closed ⚡🌠 can we come back from this

[starshower]

Who: Eustace & Tifa
Which: Closed log
Where: Their treehouse, corgi tree, maybe some other places
What: After Eustace's Noctaere episode, he and Tifa try to put their relationship back together.
Warnings: Trauma, lots of sads, and then probably gross fluff after.


[It had been a struggle even getting home. After they and the others had arrived at Ori's home together, it was at Tifa's insistence that she and Eustace go back to theirs. For as grateful and appreciative as she was for all their help in saving the both of them, there are some things that Tifa would rather they be alone for, and this... whatever this is, is one of them. Never mind the guilt that she feels for having been the one to put them all through it—Eustace can argue with her all he likes, and they can all contend that they shouldn't feel that way, that none of it was her fault, but ever since she woke up from her weakened and frozen state, Tifa couldn't look any one of them in the eye.

Including Eustace.

Even as she walks with their arms slung around each other for support with Eria at their side, the journey home is silent. Only the stirrings of dawn can be heard—the birds that chirp in the canopies, the sound of dew dripping from the leaves, but nothing is quite so loud as their staggered footsteps, or her heart beating wildly in her chest, and her blood roaring in her ears.

Tifa tries to keep her anxiety to a minimum, tries to keep her thoughts straight, but all she can see are the claws of those lindworms as they came down to strike, and their scales that shimmered as they slithered around her. All she can hear are his desperate cries, and the sound of ice and electricity crackling as her vision darkened and her consciousness had begun to fade... She remembers the chill, the grips of death when it threatened to consume her, how cold his fingers were as they brushed against her face. The red in his eyes...

And then when she woke and saw the destruction he'd left behind. Saw her friends bruised and battered from battle. Saw him like that...

The thought is cut short by a sharp breath when they finally arrive at the foot of the stairs leading up to their home, her boot bumping against them when she hadn't been paying attention. The climb up is as dreadful as everything else had been, and she can feel the heat under her boots, the fires that try to claw their way out of the cage she tries to lock them in, to struggle against the trail of ice that forms in their wake. Even the tree's branches and leaves shudder as they walk through the front door, the flowers that decorate their tree that were once bright and vibrant freezing over and shriveling up, dying without a fighting chance.

It isn't until they're safely inside that Tifa so much as looks at him for the first time since they were at Ori's. Perhaps even before. Really looks at him. He's bruised and cut up, and he looks more tired than she's ever seen him.

Her hands fold together as she skirts her gaze away again, down to where she tries to stop her fingers from trembling when she bites back the urge to sob.

Tifa wants to say something, but... what is she even supposed to say? What can she say right now that would make this easier for both of them? She searches and searches her mind for an answer to the question that's been wracking her since they left the cliffside, but she's still coming up short of nothing.

Eria trots over and nudges Tifa with her nose, as if to encourage her to say something to break this tense silence before it all snaps. So, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind in a voice so tiny that she's not even sure she's said anything at all, and it crackles, as if this is the first time she's ever spoken a word in her life. It certainly feels that way right now.]

... Do you want to get cleaned up first?

[First.

She kicks herself for it. Any other day and she would have suggested together, but her fear—not of him, but fear for them—is getting the better of her, and maybe that's for the best.]

Comments

[flamekthunder]

[Eustace is silent throughout the entire walk.

Hell, he's torn on whether he should even be walking her with like this.

They were able to at least start the reconciliation and prove they don't want to be apart. But all he can think as he feels and hears the ice crackling behind each step that it would only be better if they were apart. Have some space, figure things out... But that's never really worked out for either of them in the past. It's why she was so adamant that they go back home together. And while he protested... In truth, he still longs to be with her. Needs her. Wants to get through this with her.

...But it's hard.

Even if they say it's not his fault, in the end the nightmare consumed him. Changed him. And he accepted it, willingly. If it was a strength he could use to save Tifa, he would use it. He had been pushed and pull and torn apart to the brink that he completely gave into his emotions, lost all his reason, and grasped at whatever he had to save her. Even if it's something that many would have also fallen into, Eustace puts himself to such a higher standard that he can only think of it as falling into a vulnerability, a weaknesses he can't afford to have.

Especially given what ended up transpiring.

How he brutally attacked those who tried to help him—their friends, his friends. The intent to kill had been so strong, and it's difficult for him to really say if it wasn't just all the nightmare energy's doing or if part of it had been his own genuine intents. He really was willing to stop anyone who could harm Tifa again, harm him and their little family. He was willing to do anything to protect them...even if it meant tearing up anyone who intruded upon it.

Of course, in his sane mind he would never go to that extent he was certainly far from sane. But after everything he's been through, the repeated mental and emotional torment, he feels he's starting to lose his lifelong resolves, the person he built himself up to be.

And it's honestly frightening.

But what's more terrifying is how Tifa will see him now.

Sure, she says it's not his fault and she looks at him with blameless eyes. He knows she's not saying it for his sake, she's being genuine. But she still had nightmares of when he was cursed as a lindworm. Still had nightmares of when he killed her. Even if it's not all of him, he's certain that there's still a small part of him that she's afraid of.

And surely, she'll have new nightmares now because of him.

New reasons to hold those small fears.

Fears and guilt of what she could do that would make him change and fall to that great pit of despair.

How is that fair to her?

Even now...

He bites his lip as his grip tightens slightly on her shoulder as they near their home, the ice darkening. And sure enough, the tree suffers from their emotions, the sight only increasing that heartache. What makes it worse is that this isn't the first time—or a second. How many more times will he be the reason for everything they grow together to come crumbling down into disaster?

So lost in his thought that he doesn't immediately catch Tifa's words, and when he does, he only stares blankly at her.

First... Right.

Without a word, he just looks at her with empty, weary eyes and nods before slowly removing his arm from her. Immediately a sharp chill takes the place of the warmth that had helped keep some shred of sanity in his mind, and he turns to trudge towards their room to the bathroom.

Seeing this Eria glances between the two of them before frowning and giving Tifa a low growling whine before shoving her head against Tifa's leg. Go, she seems to be telling her.

Maybe they need the time apart, but not right now. The wolf can already foresee that they'll just sink into useless thoughts if left alone, so she tries to push them back together.]

[starshower]

[Tifa watches him go, the moment his back is turned to her, she finds that she can't allow her eyes to leave him. They don't want to. She can feel her chest tightening with a sob again as her heart yearns to follow him, but her feet are too afraid to carry her there. They stay rooted to where she is, the feel of his hand squeezing at her shoulder still lingering, and she clings onto it even through that layer of frost that she's been fighting to ignore, as if it were the last time she would ever feel his touch again. It certainly seems that way right now as he disappears into their bedroom, leaving Tifa in the middle of their living room as the chill creeps its way inside.

But then she feels the nudge against her leg, and it stumbles forward to steady her. Eria is there with a little growl, and the two of them gaze at each other for several long moments, like Tifa's brain refuses to process what she knows the wolf is trying to tell her. Eria nudges her again in the direction of their bedroom, a little harder this time, and when Tifa tries to give her a reassuring scratch behind the ears, she dodges her head away and gives another whine.

She is telling Tifa to go to him... to be with him in the way they both know they want to be. Together. She wants it more than anything in the world right now, but she didn't know if it would be right, or if it was what he wanted. She remembers the night after that dreamscape when Eustace had turned into a lindworm, and how he refused to open his door for her when she ran here and knocked on it, begging to be let in to talk. As much as she wishes to be at his side and to hold him and reassure him that she isn't mad or afraid, she wants to respect his space, his wishes...

But what does he wish for...?

It takes a third bump of Eria's head before Tifa finally takes the hint.

Slowly, she moves through the house like this is her very first time being in it and she doesn't know which way to go. She looks confused—she feels confused—as she wanders to the bedroom, and then to the washroom where she presses her head against the door, whether it's been left open or closed.

There are several moments of silence from her that pass, and she considers turning away, but she hears Eria pad into the room behind her. She's trying, the sweet wolf, and Tifa does want to make an effort. For them.

For their family...]

... Eustace?

[She calls out in a small, shaky voice that's overflowing with trepidation, and try as she might to mask the fear within it, it rings out loud and clear.]

[flamekthunder]

[When Tifa enters their bedroom, the door to the shared bathroom will be slightly open. In it, Eustace had just been staring at himself in the mirror for several minutes, everything that transpired reflected on its surface. From the moment Tifa had been nearly killed, to his transformation, to their isolation, and then...to the battle against their friends. It's a good thing his hands had been gripping the edge of the counter, otherwise his nails would have dug into his palms so deep it would have drawn blood. Instead only the wooden edge digs into it, leaving a hard lined impression when he finally pulls back.

One part of him recognizes that they can, will, and must move on from this. That they can learn and take better precaution. That he clearly underestimated his own capabilities and needs extra guidance. Most of all, that part of him knows deep down that he and Tifa won't break from this. As twisted as it all came out to be, that love for her is deep and genuine. He doesn't want to lose her.

...At the same time, it's only natural for doubt and fear to exist as well. They've all tried to reassure him, Tifa has adamantly remained by his side. He wants to believe them, trust them, and he does to a degree. But there will be much he'll need to atone for, in ways apologies will not be enough. Most of all... He's noticed the way Tifa looks at him sometimes, that fear in her eyes. It may not be for his true self, but it doesn't change the fact that a part of him terrified her. That he harnesses a side of him that she'll always be afraid of returning.

That now there's something about him that she'll live in fear of. Will have nightmares about. Will flinch at his touch and then feel guilty over.

That...

That hurts him the most.

To be a source of her grief.

Seeing everything they've built together, all the little things they've added to his home, proof of how he's no longer alone but now with someone he cherishes—and he managed to destroy it with his own hands, all because he succumbed to his vulnerabilities, his weaknesses—

Looking at himself, he sees the reflection of what he looked like when nightmare consumed him, how he looked when he crawled out of that frozen lake. The shadow of that monstrous wolf behind him. He can almost feel that shroud lingering behind him even if it's not actually there. His chest constricts, his breath squeezing out of his lungs as the tension races through his body. It makes him grit his teeth and raise his hand, a harsh gasp escaping him. He wants to swear, to scream, to cry. Instead he just wildly swings out in silence and the glass shatters under his fist, the shards cutting into his arm as it falls to the floor, but he pays no heed to it.

And it's exactly at that moment that Tifa calls out to him. That exact moment where she either witnesses it or at least hears the moment the glass shatters. And he'll just remain hunched over the sink, shoulders shaking, his fist still pressed against the exposed backing of the mirror as blood trickles down onto the sink.]

[starshower]

[The sound of the glass shattering startles her. It had been so quiet—so deadly silent in the house that she could cut through the air with a knife if she wanted to, and the steel would shrivel away under the pressure—that the sudden noise is unexpected. The door quickly swings open, and she finds Eustace just as she expects to find him—hunched over the sink, breaths ragged, blood trickling over the wooden counters and into the sink to stain it all red.

Tifa doesn't hesitate this time to reach out to him. Her hand finds a place on his shoulder as she rushes to his side, ignoring the shattered glass and the bloodied sink to focus on him. She can see the pain in his face, and how his knuckles turn white as he presses his fist into the broken mirror, feel it in how his shoulders tense and tremble.

Once again, Tifa finds herself at a loss for words. For someone who takes comfort in reassuring others with them, she's hard-pressed to find the right things to say to him. The one person she wants to be there for the most... and she can't even manage an "are you okay" or "I'm sorry." None of those empty platitudes feel right. That's what they are—empty. Of course he's not okay, and what's an apology for? She's said it a thousand times to him tonight and still, it's changed nothing. She doesn't even know if it's made him feel better.

Her own breath begins to run away from her as she stands there in a mild panic, wracking her brain for something. Anything, as she tries not to cry.

Finally, she settles on his name first.]

Eustace...

[She's lost most of her voice, so it's ragged and quiet, a hoarse, strained whisper near his ears. Tifa takes a moment to look him over, taking in the disarray of him for the first time since they left Ori's house. The tattered clothes, the blood, the frost that still bites at his skin. It's not so different from her own sorry state. Her own clothes are torn across her chest, stained with blood, and there is frost that trails along her fingertips where she touches him.

And maybe that's the answer.

Tifa urges him to turn and face her.]

Let me help... Please?

[flamekthunder]

[He flinches at her touch, and although he feels some of that familiar warmth they always share, the biting cold immediately extinguishes it and roughly jerk his shoulder away as he turns from her.]

No.

[His voice is hoarse, pained. Just as much as it pains her to reject her like this, knowing it will hurt her. But at this point, that's all he's doing, isn't it?

Happiness, preserving her smile...

He can't do that anymore.]

...You...

[He almost tries to push her away again, but the idea only makes frost crackle over his bloodied fingertips.]

...Don't force yourself... I can take care of it.

[starshower]

[Her hand withdraws from his shoulder when he jerks away, and Tifa feels her heart sink further—if it's possible for it to. He's doing that thing again. That thing he does when he pushes her away, when he puts those walls up around himself to protect not him, but her. It makes her mad, upset—who is he to decide what she needs to be protected from?—but most of all, it breaks her heart to think that he would rather do this alone than with her.

He says that she shouldn't force herself, exert herself, but is that really what it is? Is that why he's going to keep her at arm's length? Tifa doesn't believe it for a second, but she doesn't say as much.

Not yet, anyway...

She takes a step back, however, in uncertainty. Her eyes move to the door, and Eria is there, guarding it. The two of them connect gazes, and the wolf's eyes say it all. Silent encouragement and scolding for wanting to turn away and give Eustace the space he thinks he needs. She even moves to nudge the door further shut before she sits on the other side.

Slowly, Tifa reaches out for his bloodied hand and takes his arm in hers, within a grip that's firm enough to say no without saying it.]

I'm not forcing myself.

[... She needs help, too.]

[flamekthunder]

[When she starts to withdraw, he begins to think she really will leave and it just tears a little more of his frayed and broken heart. Yet who is he to feel this way when he's purposefully trying to drive her away? Constantly torn between wanting to be with her yet wanting to be distant, wanting to spare her but hurt her all the same. So when she does reach out to take his hand and arm, he flinches, eyes widening briefly before he once again tries to pull away.

But it's a weak attempt, feeble. His hand actually trembles, and it's only when frost stars snaking up his hand from his fingertips to his wrist towards hers that he pulls back with much more strength.]

Tifa.

[His voice his sharp—pained. He only says her name but he's practically begging for her to leave him.]

[starshower]

[It hurts. Everything hurts. Every muscle and bone, her head is pounding, her eyes and throat are sore... but nothing hurts more than when he pulls away from her again.

She's at a loss. At a crossroads. Torn between wanting to push through this and wanting to respect his wishes. Tifa falters for a third time, a small, pained noise escaping her that she doesn't mean to let out. She sees that frost and wants to chase it away with warmth—her warmth, but she doesn't dare touch him again, no matter how badly she wants to.

She would... if only he'd just ask.

Instead, she leans against the back wall for a moment, and her fingers hover on the handle of the door.]

... What?

[What is it? What's wrong? What can she say? What can she do? What is she supposed to do right now? Turn around and leave him be, or fight back?]

What...

[Her voice is small, the question repeating itself on a sob as her chest constricts on her again, and she teeters on the verge of tears.]

[flamekthunder]

[He takes a ragged breath as he increases that distance, stepping further away from her as he tightly grips his arm, nails digging into the frosted skin and broken glass crunching under his boots he had yet to take off.]

I don't...

[Whatever kind of "progress" they may have made back with the others just seems to completely fall apart now that they're alone. Now that he's surrounded by the fruit and labor of their love, reminded of everything that he's on the brink of losing. A voice in the back of his mind is yelling at him for being weak like this—by trying to run and avoid it instead of facing it like he should. He had said he wanted to be with her, to stay with her, well where is that resolve now!?

It's being constantly frayed and shattered by the continued reminder of that ice and shadow, that's what. No matter how thick and tall he made those wall, they can still crumble if hit at their weakest point. And his had been plowed through and raked over before being strewn and tossed about.

More ice crackles around him, shadows of what transpired growing.]

It's not safe.

[I'm not safe.

Although the charm had enough dreamotion to purify most of the nightmare energy that had shrouded him and brought him back, some of it still lingers. It always will, he knows that now. And while normally he would be able to more rationally figure out how to handle it, right now he can only fear of what if it takes hold of him again right now? What if he changes again and this time do something worse? Those dark thoughts he had, twisted and horrendous...

He knows he needs to at least some sense of reasons, but it's difficult in his current state.]

[starshower]

I'm not scared.

[Of him.

The words tumble out of her without a second thought as she watches him wrestle with his thoughts. Tifa wishes she could say that it were all true—that she wasn't afraid of anything, but in truth, she's terrified. She had been when she witnessed the abomination of him crawl out of the water, when he had picked each of their friends off one by one. Even when she had approached him, saved him, she was scared.

But now, the only thing she has left to fear for is them and everything they spent the last year—more than that—building together, and of all the unsaid things being exchanged between them in the ghostly silence of their home.

Tifa's hand grips at the handle and she gives it a twist, all her worries coiling up tight in her fingertips. Every feeling as she digs her nails into the steel to keep them from shaking.]

Do you really want me to leave you alone...?

[flamekthunder]

No...yes...

[His first answer had been almost immediate, but he had tried to take it back.

But it's too late. His true feelings are already out there, for better or worse. And all it does is make him retreat further into the bathroom. She's at the door, what other escape route could he have? The window??]

I just...don't want to hurt you anymore.

[His voice is a pained, strained whisper, each word on the verge of breaking down further.]

It's still...there, I can feel it. Those twisted desires, the hatred, anger, grief—I can't control it—!

[As the words tumble out of his mouth unbidden, his emotions flare up along with it. Now the floor and the walls start to ice over, the wood darkening as if about to rot. He's trying, he really is, but no matter how people think of him he's still human—a man still vulnerable to emotion and weaknesses. And they've all be laid out to bare and nothing he's doing is reeling it back.]

[starshower]

[Funny. It's her who feels like she wants to escape. Not from him, but from all of this. This waking nightmare that they've both found themselves in. Tifa thought she had defeated it, pushed it all away and saved him from his darkest thoughts and deepest fears, but in reality, all she had done was bring them home to this, and now she feels as if she's trapped him.

He looks like a wounded dog in a cage, and she was the one who put him there.

Tifa's feet move on the floor while she watches the way the room begins to darken, and the ice creep up the walls. It grows so cold that she can see her breath turn to puffs of vapour in the air. She can see the chill begin to settle over the room and over them, as the words roll out of him.

He's still scared of it—scared that it's going to grip his heart again. For him, it's more than just them... but himself, too. She knows this, and yet...]

Yes, you can.

[One foot carries her forward, and then the next, until she's completely closing the distance between them until he's up against the wall. With nowhere else to go, there's nothing left for her to do but to drop her head onto his shoulder. Whether he wants it or not—whether he wants her or not—Tifa's mind is elsewhere, so focused on the ice that continues to bite at his skin as her fingertips burn with a light. It's dim, lukewarm at best, but she presses her palm to his chest, her fire pouring over his new scar.

And she cries.

For him. For them.]

I'm scared too, but I'm here... just let me help you...

[Please just let her in. Even just a little bit...

They came out of it together, and they can do it again.



... Can't they?]

[flamekthunder]

[He again visibly flinches and trembles when she approaches, pressing his back further against the wall as he quietly whispers—begs her to stop and just stay back. She shouldn't be near him, shouldn't be near any of this. But it's useless, and the moment she drops her head on his shoulder and he feels that light on his chest, he stiffens before a sob chokes out of him. Dim and lukewarm or not, it's so warm to him. A little ray of sun persistently poking through the dark storm clouds to warm the cold, white snowy surface in the deepest parts of the tundra. It doesn't matter how small it is, he'll always relish it, always treasure it. For it's become the most precious thing in his life. Others may and will shine their own light on his heart, but hers... Tifa's will always be the strongest, the only one that could pierce through deepest depths.]

Tifa...

[Her name escapes him in another broken sob before he no longer can hold it back anymore, the tears flowing freely as his head lowers to fall against hers.]

I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

[It's all he can say, all he can manage as his shoulders shake, the dam that had been pent up since they left that cave now fully broken and pouring out. He would have thought the time back after the dreamscape was the worst, but no. This is in a different way.

And he wants to hold her, to hug her, but he's too afraid. Too afraid of the frost and ice that still lingers, afraid that if he touches her he'll once more freeze her to him. Afraid he'll want to hole them up and lock them in to keep everyone out again.

How is he supposed to fix this? Can he? Can they? He doesn't know.

He really doesn't.]

[starshower]

[She wishes he would hold her... That she could feel the strength of him around her when she knows they both need it most, but Tifa understands, too. They're both so fragile, like a thin piece of glass that could break under the smallest touch that even she's afraid to touch him, too. She doesn't want to hurt him and doesn't want him to fear more than he already does.

When he apologizes, Tifa shakes her head. Where words are unable to form between her violent sobs, between every violent shake of her body, she lets the warmth of her fingers speak for her as they trace over his chest, his shoulders, every part of him that she can reach from where she is. Can he feel it, she wonders? The love that she still has for him? That patient, understanding, unconditional love that she feels as her body molds against his, seeking warmth, and seeking to share whatever she has with him in turn.

How long they stay like this, she doesn't know. It could be minutes or hours for all she cares... but the two of them spend that time to let out all of that pent up anger, guilt, sadness that's built up over the last twelve hours. It isn't until Tifa's eyes have dried up and she's sobbed herself both speechless and sore that she finally lifts her head from his chest, her cheeks stained with streaks of tears and her eyes bloodshot and tired to look at him.

Once more, she pleads as she finds his hand to take in hers, but as she threads her fingers in between his, frost skates across them. Tifa doesn't shy away from it; she holds his hand tighter, with that dim warmth helping to curb it and fight back.]

... Please let me help you.

[flamekthunder]

[The longer she stays with him, the longer he feels he can't let go and the more he feels himself completely fall apart. Why is it every time they reach a blissful peak in their lives, something happens to burn it all to the ground? It's not that he's unwilling to rebuild it back, but surely, surely it's going to wear on her eventually. And it's not just what's happening to him, either. She also went through something traumatic, once again facing death and dealing with her own fears.

Yet here she is, trying to help him and what is he doing?

Shouldn't it be him trying to help her?

To comfort her and give her strength and reassurance?

Instead he's just falling apart, making her have to pick up the pieces—for both of them.

How pathetic is that?]

...But what about you?

[It's all he manages to squeeze out as he stares back down at her, his own eyes so hollow and worn, every speck of light that once filled them gone. He's so tired. Exhausted.]

...I put you through all this... You suffered worse than me.

[starshower]

[They've both suffered, and the look that she gives him says that much for her.

Put her through what, she wants to ask. It was the nightmares, not this man standing before her. That much Tifa is sure on. Eustace would never willingly hurt those he cares about. Eustace would never hurt her. It might have been his body doing the fighting, but it was the darkness that shrouded his heart that made him act. The nightmares of this place that made him do all the things he would never, ever think of doing. No one blames him for what happened, least of all her.

If anything, Tifa feels like she should be the one to take the blame. It should be her taking the brunt of this for calling out for them, and for getting hurt in the first place when it all could have been avoided.

If she had just been quicker on the draw...

When she thought she couldn't sob anymore, she does again, and she bites down on her lip to stop it from trembling.]

... I need your help, too.

[As much as it pains her to admit it. As much as she wishes with all her heart that she could be strong for him right now, Tifa doesn't think that she can be. She can't pick up their broken pieces all on her own...

She takes a step back then, far enough to look him over carefully. At all of his cuts and bruises, at his tattered and worn state. Most of the bleeding in his wounds have stopped, but she can see the ice, black as the shadows that surrounded him earlier, still clinging to his skin, and she makes her decision then.

Turning silently, she reaches down to turn on the tap for the tub.

Standing here like this isn't going to do them any good.]

Let's get cleaned up first, okay?

[Together.]

[flamekthunder]

[His breath hitches in his throat when she tells him she needs him. He wants to immediately refute that he's not the one, that someone else would be better...

But it would be a lie, wouldn't it?

They've been through this before—they know that the only real way through this is if they stay together and try and support each other. It's why they're here at home at all. Yet he continues to think that this time it's different, this time he's crossed too many lines—

But he can't seem to refuse. How can he? He's always answered her, always given her whatever she wanted, whatever she needed. The only time he didn't was when he wasn't in his right mind and only listened to his own twisted desires. If he refuses her now...wouldn't it be just the same?

In the end all he can do is stiffly nod and let her take the lead.]

[starshower]

[She hears Eria walk away then, satisfied with the way things are going that she no longer needs to make sure that the two of them aren't pushing each other away. She needs to remember to thank the wolf later, to tell her that she did the right thing when all of this is over—not that she'll need the reassurance, but she wants to anyway—but for now, all of Tifa's focus is on him.

Gingerly, she reaches for his shirt, or what remains of it. It's coated in blood and sweat and dirt, and as she tugs gently at its bottom hem to peel it away, flakes of frost dust from it to land around their feet.

But she pauses, hesitates to look up at him, her eyes silently asking for his permission to continue...]

[flamekthunder]

[He only remains still as he lets her start to remove his shirt. It's an act they've done for each other countless times, most of them out of passion, but the memories of early mornings or when she wants to help him change out to his casual clothes after he's been out as they settle for a warm evening together are what come to the forefront of his mind. How she would smile or giggle, how they would tease each other, the number of times she smacked his hand she tried to undo her own clothes while dinner was still waiting for them.

Such beautiful peaceful, quiet times.

...And now...

...

Seeing her eyes, he only just closes his eyes, a silent acquiescence for her to continue.]

[starshower]

[Those days aren't long gone. They'll get them back.

For as much as she hesitates now, and as much as her hands tremble as she continues at his consent, there are a thousand more times when the room would be filled with laughter, her head swimming with the sweet nothings that he whispers in her ears as he sweeps her off her feet and into his arms to whisk her away, even as she shouts her playful protests at him.

She chooses to believe that they can work to get those days back. That this is just another bump—albeit a large one—in the road that they can get over together.

Tifa's movements are slow, deliberate, as she peels the shirt up, careful not to let the fabric snag or stick on any of the cuts or bruises scattered over his body. She tries not to let her eyes linger for too long on any one of them, but she can feel her breathing quicken with each new one that she spots until she's lifting the shirt over his shoulders and his head to reveal the large one that's bloomed across his chest, red and swollen and still bleeding in some places.

Her brows furrow into a frown, but Tifa chooses to look up to his face instead. To read his expression for a sign of how he might be feeling, but her hand slides up his abdomen to his chest to rest just beneath it.]

Does it hurt still?

[flamekthunder]

[Back there, he never paid much attention to his injuries, the worst being the one at his chest and the other on his side. But now... The treatment they received certainly help, but he can feel them burn for a different reason. Enough for him to grimace a little when the fabric brushes over the raw skin, but he bears it. His expression only wavers when she reaches out to touch him, muscles tensing a fraction as he looks down at her.

His eyes drift over to her own torn up shirt, the tears where the lindwurm had clawed her clear. Beneath it are the scars that will be over the ones she already carries. Even though he wasn't the one who caused them, he couldn't protect her from them. And because it was from a lindwurm of all things...it only reminds him of that horrid dreamscape, when he slashed at her chest when the curse first started taking over him, and then when he ultimately killed her.

It's all the same to him.

And he can only feebly reach out to her with a trembling hand, fingertips just shy of touching the area.]

...Not as much as this.

[He could have been stabbed through the heart, have his limbs torn apart—and none of it would ever compare to the pain he feels upon seeing it. It just carries too much. A mark of how he failed not only in saving her, but how he also succumbed to the nightmare that brought them all to this. And now she'll have a physical reminder of it as well...]

[starshower]

[Her breath catches when his hand nears her chest, towards the scar that peeks out through the tears in her shirt, and she resists the urge and the instinct to take a step back from him. She feels the twinges of guilt growing in the back of her throat, the shame of being seen like this, by him of all people, and when he needs her most, she's weak and vulnerable...

And while it serves as a permanent reminder to him that he failed in saving her, both are a reminder to Tifa that she couldn't even save herself.

There's a moment—a long moment—where her eyes linger on his hand, but she uses the tap of the tub as an excuse to dip away from him long enough to turn it off, long enough to buy herself a bit of time to come up with something to say that will both reassure him and not sound so empty.]

It doesn't hurt anymore... Not as much.

[It still does, but not in the way one might think when looking at it. Her charm had protected her and the lake had done a lot of the heavy lifting, and while it still stings, it only hurts because it hurts him.]

[flamekthunder]

[He only looks at her with a pained expression.]

Tifa.

[He didn't miss that hesitation, how she's trying not to avoid it and trying to reassure him. But it just means she's also hiding the truth... Not that he can talk as he's not being so forthcoming, either.]

[starshower]

Hm?

[She's looking at the water in the tub. Looking at how still it is. How calm it is, oblivious to the turmoil that's raging inside the room and around them... The ache in their hearts that burns greater than any wound they sustained tonight. The yearning and the fear...

And then it starts to bubble, and steam rises up from it, and when she realizes what she's doing, she pulls her attention back to him. Forces herself to look at him, not quite in the eyes.]

[flamekthunder]

[He can only stare at her, wanting to say something yet not knowing what. Does he want her to tell him the truth? Tell him what she's really feeling? Thinking?

He doesn't know.

He just doesn't like how difficult this is, how much it feels like she's having to force herself and push them forwards like this.

He wants to reach out and hug her, but seeing the bits of frost that clings to her still, he's afraid.

The bubbling of the water is enough to elicit some sudden reaction, a spark that makes him finally reach out and grab her hand as he looks at her with desperation that is almost borderline madness.]

Tell me the truth.

[Tell me.

Tell me that it hurts.

Tell me how much I frightened you.

That you're scared of me, terrified of what could happen next.

Just tell me... Tell me how much I've hurt you...]